I guess all that makes me illegal,
Fit for the night with its somnolent glare,
My pearls like the sun fenced in secret
To evade being snared by the long,
Compassionate arm of blind Justicia,
Who senses me come and go,
Even into my hole, but my shadow
Never quite interferes
With the things that are judged by appearance.
Still, I am a thief,
Not because there's anything I steal,
But because they can't know
What they've let fall away
— Too painful to ask its return.
